


hinderances

by slowlange



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 5 Times, 5+1 Things, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Miya Atsumu, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Incest, M/M, Post-Time Skip, Pro Volleyball Player Miya Atsumu, Riding, Semi-Public Sex, Sibling Incest, Smut, Top Miya Osamu, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:33:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29531328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slowlange/pseuds/slowlange
Summary: The flight back to Kyoto is one thing in a long list of things that Atsumu had completely forgotten as he stepped off the platform and saw his smiling brother in the far back of a light crowd. Osamu holds a small sign that says ‘Welcome Home, Atsumu!’, his neat handwriting scrawled in black and gold, and Atsumu’s entire heart submerges into a vat of lava at the precious sight.He misses volleyball a little less today.Or, Atsumu comes home from a successful season, and he and Osamu try their best to reunite.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Miya Osamu
Comments: 15
Kudos: 115
Collections: Miyacest Gift Exchange





	hinderances

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yfoom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yfoom/gifts).



> for the MIYACEST EXCHANGE muwahahah...  
> this was honestly a joy to write. prolonging the fucking was...extremely fun.  
> giftee, i hope you enjoy this! i definitely loved writing it for you<3 five times they tried...and one time they did...perfect.

The flight back to Kyoto is one thing in a long list of things that Atsumu had completely forgotten as he stepped off the platform and saw his smiling brother in the far back of a light crowd. He hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep between the crying little girl near the front of the plane and his aching legs. It was a downright miserable experience from beginning to end.

But as he said before, it all melted away the moment he was free of his shackles. There, he left behind his prison, taking the form of the rear cabin of a Spring Airlines plane, in favor of everything he’d been impatiently anticipating for the past forty-eight hours.

Osamu holds a small sign that says ‘Welcome Home, Atsumu!’, his neat handwriting scrawled in black and gold, and Atsumu’s entire heart submerges into a vat of lava at the precious sight. He also takes a moment to appreciate the fact that none of their friends are at his side, nor are there any stray cameras or flashes in the bushes.

When he gets close, Osamu’s hands drop to his side and Atsumu takes the opening like it’s a perfect lob on the court, fingers twitching and ready to pounce. Osamu smells of food, like he always does—and  _ has  _ since  _ Onigiri Miya _ began to gain more traction. From the stories he heard over the phone, and the little videos Osamu would send him when he had a spare minute in the wake of full 10-hour days, the popularity was much to keep up with. Being off-season meant many things, and one of those was Atsumu spending a bit more time in the shop helping his brother out.

“God I missed you,” He breathes out, a bit too emotional and a bit too fragile. Vulnerability sometimes just spills out without his say so when he’s around Osamu. It’s dangerous. Last thing he wants is to get  _ too  _ soft. Osamu will never let him hear the end of it. Hell, he’ll never let him  _ top  _ again.

He feels him breathe heavily above and takes in his scent, though Atsumu wishes he wouldn’t. He smells like other people, dirty floors and stairways, in desperate need of a shower.

“I missed you too.” Osamu holds him closer regardless, a hand furling into his hair while another squeezes his upper back. The chatter around them dulls to nothing as they hold each other in the middle of the airport. Like they’d been lost for years, only to find each other in the most convenient of places.

“I wanna shower,” Atsumu whispers into his chest after a while, nuzzling his nose further into Osamu’s freshly washed sweater. He feels like he needs to scrub an entire season off of him. A fresh canvas before he slips into their shared bed and lets his brother’s hands roam.

“Let’s go home now?” Osamu murmurs into his hair. The light brush of his lips against his skull sends an enormous chill down Atsumu’s spine before exploding and crawling down stiffened legs. Osamu’s touch, absent until now, is a strike of lightning.

Atsumu misses volleyball a little less today.

“Home sounds nice,” he hums before reaching out of their bubble to snatch his luggage up again, only for Osamu to take it from him. Atsumu sputters, “H-Hey!”

“Let me do it, come on.” Osamu yanks the handle from its holding spot before walking forward, “I can see the bags under yer eyes. Were you not sleeping or something?”

“I—okay,” Atsumu jogs to catch up to his brother and his long legs before continuing, “it’s not like I haven’t been  _ sleeping _ . I just haven’t been sleeping these past three  _ days _ .”

“Why?”

“Eh, I mean, it’s like the first day of school you know?” Atsumu explains as their car comes into view and his heart crawls with joy. “Yer mind is running with all these thoughts about what’s to come and you get all nervous. The anticipation was killin’ me, sort of.”

“Were ya nervous to see me?” Osamu asks, digging in his pockets until he reveals the keys, dangling on a thin lanyard with ‘ _ Onigiri Miya _ ’ lettered neatly along the polyester. Atsumu smiles tiredly at it, expecting nothing less than Osamu outfitting everything they own with some sort of  _ Onigiri Miya _ merchandise.

“It’s cute, isn’t it?” He notices Atsumu’s fond gaze before handing it over so he can take a closer look.

“Very cute.” Atsumu flips it over in his palm as the rest hangs over his warm-up sleeve.

“Thought of what you said before you left when I had it designed.” Osamu opens the trunk door before lifting his luggage into the back of the car, utilizing thick, trained biceps that Atsumu wants to just hang on. “ _ Make it subtle, ‘Samu. Don’t go buck wild, ‘Samu.” _

“I’m glad you listen to me sometimes.” Atsumu muses, leaning against the side of the car. Mouth tugged into a smirk, he just misses Osamu’s quick glances around the property before coming close, cupping his face in his hands and kissing him. Atsumu almost stumbles and falls from the shock and quickness of it, but his arms are just as fast, wrapping around his shoulders just as Osamu releases his cheeks and clutches his hips. They dip carefully, hiding behind the car beside theirs.

“God,” Atsumu pulls away to see a bashful smile along the same mouth that’d just so boldly sought to devour him, “are you fucking crazy?” Normally these kinds of things, this  _ very  _ risky public affection, wouldn’t fly. Atsumu was too paranoid a person for it. But now, in a nearly empty parking lot, and all means of attention directed elsewhere, he shrugs it off and leans in to kiss him again. Their lips meld lazily together before Osamu breaks it.

“I would fuck you right now if I could.” He breathes, “Let’s get you  _ home _ .”

“Yep, yep. Please.” 

Atsumu steadies himself as Osamu heads for the driver’s side. With a skip in his step, he circles the car to slip in on the passenger side. As he jabs the key into the ignition, Atsumu laughs, barely heard over the sudden boom of the radio, before reaching to cover Osamu’s hand with his own.

“I really did miss you, you know.” He smiles stupidly all over again.

“You’ll know how much I fuckin’ missed you in a second, you fuckin’ minx.” Osamu jabs at his side next, digging his fingers into his toned stomach. Atsumu nearly squeals. “You think I forgot about those goddamn thirst traps you were sendin’ me the whole damn time you were globe-hopping?!”

“I have no idea what you mean.” Atsumu knows exactly what he means. Pictures starting with his bare, dripping torso and ending with just about everything he could do under the belt. He lived to torture his brother no matter the case, and there was simply no time for breaks. His grin turns sly as he shifts his body away from his brother’s, chest turned to the window. “You’ll have to jog my memory after my shower.”

“Or during.”

Atsumu snorts, quite vulgarly, as they pull out of the airport. 

The teasing dies down long after they hit the highway, the adrenaline of their reunion dying down and Atsumu’s fatigue beginning to really set in. The conversation turns relaxed as his energy drops, fighting to maintain enthusiasm. Osamu makes sure to ease his own excitement in line with it, always keeping an observant eye out and watching.

“What’s your plan for off season other than _ Onigiri Miya _ ?” He asks after a good chunk of their trip is complete, eyes still trained on the road. Atsumu recognizes the highway signs, names of prefectures that used to bring them home from childhood.

“No plan. Just wanna be with you while I can,” he answers. It’s the only answer he  _ wants  _ to have.

“I don’t wanna take up all your time. You have people to see, don’t you?”

“Don’t wanna see them yet…” Atsumu whines, then pauses before saying, “What, you don’t want me?”

“What I  _ want  _ is to hog you and keep you in our apartment for three weeks. Chain you to the goddamn bed, so I can have you every night I come home.”

“I’m sure we can arrange that.”

Osamu tears his eyes from the road to stare.

“Don’t fucking tempt me.”

“What if I  _ want it _ , ‘Samu—”

“I’m driving. Don’t do this.”

“Do what?” Atsumu spreads his legs wide in one sluggish move, masking his intent with an exaggerated stretch, “ask my little brother to chain me to his bed?”

“ _ Our _ bed,” he huffs.   
  


“Unimportant.” He runs a hand down his chest, starting from his pecs and cascading down impatiently. The other hand tugs at the zipper of his warm-up jacket. “You wanna  _ touch me _ , ‘Samu.”

“Fuck Ats—”

A phone rings between them, jolting them both out of the scene they’ve created. Atsumu gathers himself quickly at the interruption, watching as Osamu fiddles with both their devices before picking up his own and swiping quickly.

“Hello?” His arousal disappears quicker than Atsumu would have liked. “Hi hi—slow  _ down  _ Sakura-san, what’s going on?”

Osamu’s grip on the wheel tightens and Atsumu sits up straight again, brows furrowed.

“Right. Okay. Okay. I uh, I gotta drop Atsumu home, and then I’ll be there as quickly as possible.”

_ Be there?  _ There’s only so much he can conclude from that statement. Atsumu’s heart sinks from the high he’s been riding since touching down. He doesn’t want Osamu to go  _ anywhere _ . Not now, at least.

“What’s that all about?” He tries his best to mask his disappointment for both their sakes as Osamu drops his phone back in the center console with a clatter. 

“Some shit going down at the restaurant,” he sighs, “broken equipment, big rush, not enough people to handle it. I gotta go back, ‘Tsumu. I’m sorry.”

Atsumu quells his brother’s annoyance and the quivering hand glued to the steering wheel with a gentle touch to Osamu’s cheek. He revels in the way his brother visibly relaxes, softening his grip and sitting back against the chair. They’re both upset, sure, but it’ll never get past his love for Osamu’s hard work and drive, all born from passion alone. Seeing him take on responsibility after responsibility, as selfish as it is, is the most appealing and arousing thing to him. Even when the cards pile high, and it feels like shit’s going to hit the fan, Atsumu loves to watch him hold on. By a pin. By a  _ thread _ . Because he comes out on top every time.

“I’ll just see you when you get home,” Atsumu brushes his thumb across his cheekbone. “Gotta unwind, you know?”

“Wanted to make you dinner,” Osamu laments. “Fucking sucks that this had to happen now.”

“Come on,” He tries to coax him again, “it really is okay. Look, you can go back, fix everything, and by then I’ll be showered and ready to watch you cook.”

Osamu smiles just slightly, and Atsumu takes it as his cue to pinch his reddening cheeks. The mood of the car lifts once more.

“Can drool over your shoulder a little too…” He hums with a smile.

  
“Fine. You want gyoza?”

Atsumu perks up. “Please.”

“I’ll pick them up on the way back.”

“Love you, ‘Samu.” He grins.

“Mmm, I know. Now get yer hands off me. Lemme get us home in one piece.”

  
  
  


-

  
  
  


Osamu drops him home thirty minutes later, pulling into the familiar parking lot. Atsumu could feel when they exited off the highway and onto familiar local roads in his short slumber. His body memorized every dip and curve the car could take when travelling home. And when he hears the keys twist and the car shut off, that sense of being home  _ really  _ seeps in.

  
“‘Tsumu…” Osamu runs a hand along his shoulder. The gentle strokes threaten to lull Atsumu back to sleep.

“Shh…” He whispers. 

“I gotta go to the restaurant,” Osamu begs ever so slightly, as if he doesn’t  _ want  _ to yank Atsumu out of his chair and break the peaceful, warm atmosphere they’ve been floating in. But, he will if he has to. “Come on. You wanted to shower, right?”

“Mmm…” Briefly, Atsumu remembers how filthy he is. “Fine.”

Osamu makes a satisfied sound and bounds out of the car, giving the door a loud slam behind him. Atsumu whines rather loudly after that, curling inward and covering his ears, craving sleep badly. Behind him, the trunk opens and the rustling of his bags is what eventually drags him out of his seat. Hot skin peeling off leather, the sway of his head when he opens his eyes and tries to reorient.  _ Fucking gross _ .

He opens the car door with a sluggish push just as Osamu emerges from behind the car with his luggage.

“Come on.” He hums, leaning down despite all the crap in his hands and kissing his forehead. “Almost there.”

“You’re too happy.” Atsumu groans as he gets up.

“Too happy?” 

“All kissy-kissy in public. Isn’t safe, ‘Samu.”

“Sorry,” he says before dropping a bag on the ground and grabbing the house key from where it hangs out of his back pocket. “Sometimes I just… I dunno. Get overwhelmed.”

“Awww,” Atsumu’s mouth curls upward. “You like me.”

“I like you a lot more than you think.” Osamu grunts as he pushes the door in. It opens with a jerk and Osamu nudges it out the rest of the way with his foot. “Get in there, yeah?”

“Help me unpack my bags.” Atsumu pouts as Osamu rests them by the door.

“Later, okay?” He kicks the door back, shutting it a bit before he cups his brother’s cheeks in his hands again. “Take a shower. Get some rest.”

“I will,” Atsumu sighs. “But I’m gonna have a goddamn boner the entire time. Been wanting you for so long…”

“As soon as I get home.” Osamu seals it with a kiss, knee-buckling and sweet. “Promise.”

“O _ kaaay _ .” He reaches out to caress his hips, hand traveling forward to press against the supple flesh of his stomach.

“I’ll see you.” 

Another kiss, and he’s gone. When the door shuts tightly behind him Atsumu falls back into the couch and takes in sights that he hasn’t been exposed to in months. 

Their apartment is much cleaner than it has been in a long time, almost reaching the quality they’d bought the place at. Warm memories of their first days arranging the place. It was cheesy, almost too domestic for it to have been real. Buying furniture online had been the worst part. He and Osamu had disagreed so much back then he thought, just for a moment, that he was making a mistake. Though when they came together later on, a mess of limbs and pants and moans, his worries dissipated. 

All in all, he can’t deny his satisfaction when the couch accepts him and he sinks deep into the cushions. The groan that follows is telling of just  _ how  _ good it really is.

Momentarily, Atsumu debates a shower. Despite feeling dirty, all he really wanted to do was lay on the floor and take a really, really long nap until the front door unlocked. If it weren’t for the guaranteed lay he was going to receive, he would have probably gone through with it.

With a groan ripping from his chest, he trudges to the bathroom.

  
  
  
  


-

  
  
  


Osamu enters the apartment around nine o’clock, just as he hoped he would. In one hand, a bag or two of extra groceries. In another, a bag of hot, steaming gyoza. He’d smiled at the restaurant as he picked which ones to get, assuring an even mix of deep-fried shrimp and beef dumplings. The smell would linger in his car for days, savory and heavenly like all of Atsumu’s cravings.

He’s a bit disappointed when he doesn’t see him sitting on the couch. Deep down, he wished that Atsumu had been waiting for him, on the edge of his seat and ready to jump up and attack him when he heard the click of the lock. It’s a rather rare greeting he hasn’t received in a  _ long  _ time.

He seals the door shut with his heel before dropping the groceries on the floor, signifying his arrival to his brother, wherever he is. As he toes his shoes off, it dawns on him that he may be in the shower. Or…waiting for him. In their room.

A switch flips within him and warmth spreads in his chest. Atsumu  _ loves  _ this game, surprising him when he least expects it. It drives him up the  _ wall  _ when the pieces slot perfectly into place and Osamu’s gut fills with overwhelming love and a feral need to fuck, depending on whatever he comes up with. 

Osamu heads for the stairs, flicking through the endless options and images that appear in his mind, knowing Atsumu can reach rather  _ kinky  _ heights when he’s feeling gracious. A flush rises and dusts his cheeks, fond memories of tight stockings, furry handcuffs, and an  _ extremely  _ snug black collar sneak their way to the front of his mind.

Osamu opens the door to their bedroom; it’s beyond anything he imagined, starting with the obnoxious snore that echoes against the walls.

Atsumu is asleep, with no chance of awakening.

His expectations fade further with each soft snore that leaves Atsumu’s lips. Osamu sighs, but smiles as his eyes laze on his sleeping brother’s figure. He’s tired, anyway. And so is Osamu, he realizes now that his body has relaxed and the aches and pains of the day have begun to settle in his muscles. He considers the groceries he’d left outside, but it's nothing that needs immediate attention. 

Osamu reaches for his shirt and tears it off quickly, letting it fall to the ground before fiddling with his belt. He inches closer to the bed as he works his way out of his pants and his knee bumps against it. To his surprise, Atsumu stirs. His eyes twitch against the pillows before opening fully, and Osamu, clad in his boxers, doesn’t hesitate to join him.

“Mmm, what time is it?” Atsumu rubs at his drowsiness, knuckles weakly brushing underneath his eyes, where heavy bags sit. Osamu frowns, wishing they weren’t there as he cups Atsumu’s cheek in his hand.

“Late-ish.” He answers. “Nine.”

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep, m’sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Yer tired.” Osamu says, pressing his thumb deep into his skin. It’s not right to keep him up when the trip has worn him out, but Osamu’s groin still tingles and numbs at the same time as Atsumu shifts closer to him.   
  


“Not that tired…” Atsumu says it with grains in his voice, but it still comes out sweet with the leg that hooks around Osamu’s exposed hip.

“‘Tsumu.” He warns as his brother’s touch follows a familiar, missed path about his body. Fingertips comb through his hair before floating down his neck, another hand stroking his chest, drawing a small square that cages his nipple in. Close, but not too close. Teasing Osamu ‘till the very end.

“You said you want to fuck when you got home, didn’t you?” Atsumu gives a slight roll of his hips, and Osamu feels his cock against his stomach. He wants to cave, wants to steal his last steady breath from his chest, but he can still hear his exhaustion, seemingly worse than earlier.

He wants to say that he should sleep, but Atsumu leans closer and presses their lips together and Osamu lacks any sort of rebuttal, letting his jaw loosen and his eyes fall shut. They kiss, lazy, long, and in no rush as Osamu moves with every intention of splitting Atsumu’s mouth open so he can slip his tongue in. His hands find their way to Atsumu’s hips, and Osamu lets them slide down until he reaches the gratifying conclusion that his brother laid naked in their bed.

“You’re so soft,” he whispers against him, licking a stripe over kissed lips, and Atsumu lets out a desperate little sound before meeting him in the middle. It’s so easy to completely lose himself into the grind of their cocks, the warmth of Atsumu’s naked skin against his dampening boxers. So easy, that when his tongue seeps into Atsumu’s slack mouth, he doesn’t notice his hips have stopped moving, and Atsumu is falling asleep in his arms. “God…” Osamu shakes his head. Stupid. “You should just sleep. Come on, ‘Tsumu.” He nudges him away and the blonde pouts. “I’ll be here tomorrow.”

“But  _ ‘Samu— _ ”

Osamu doesn’t let himself fall into the trap of pleading and begging a second time, rolling away from Atsumu fully and pulling the covers up and over him. “No. Bed. We can do it tomorrow.”

“ _ Want it now _ .” And yet, he yawns.

“You want to sleep.” Osamu hammers the final nail in the coffin. “Go. To. Sleep.”

Atsumu, in all his stubbornness, tries to fight against it, but the urge is too strong and eventually he falls out. In a couple minutes, he’s snoring just as softly as when Osamu came in. He realizes that Atsumu may feel bad about not being able to hang out late, but with all his heart, he wishes he would just let life play its course instead of constantly combating against it. They’ll have their time. It always comes, one way or another.

Osamu yawns quite loudly before settling into bed and falling asleep beside his brother, their hands barely meeting beneath the comforter.

  
  
  


-

  
  
  
  


There’s a peace that comes with the first time Atsumu and Osamu see each other after a period of time, most of those times being Atsumu’s long season. Everything is peaceful, the usual air of sibling animosity somewhere far away for the time being.

It disappears as soon as day breaks the next morning.

“Oi.”

Osamu doesn’t move. Atsumu growls. “ _ Oi, ‘Samu.  _ Yer squishing my fucking arm.”

Nothing. Osamu doesn’t snore, or really make any sound when he sleeps, so for all Atsumu knows, he’s fucking awake and mocking him with a slack body and a plain face.

“‘Samu wake the  _ fuck  _ up!”

Atsumu pushes him hard enough with one arm that he rolls and nearly falls off the mattress. Osamu’s eyes fly open with alarm as he feels himself sinking into the air instead of the sheets and the corners of Atsumu’s mouth tug into a smirk.

“Good morning!”

Osamu catches himself before snatching a pillow up and hurling straight into his brother’s face. “You’re an asshole, ‘Tsumu.”

“No,  _ you’re _ the asshole.” He catches it before it can touch his nose. “Leaving me hanging last night.”

“If I remember correctly,  _ you  _ were the one that fell asleep.” Osamu steadies himself on the floor, then approaches their closet. He tugs out a pair of worn jeans and his  _ Onigiri Miya _ shirt. “Not that it was even a problem, anyway. Yer just making it one like you always do.”

“Maybe if  _ you  _ came home earlier I wouldn’t have fallen asleep!” Atsumu snaps. Osamu rolls his eyes, though he feels the guilt that had manifested yesterday start to sting.

“I told you I was sorry,” he repeats, glancing at the clock. Seven fifteen.  _ Late.  _ He has to leave soon.

“You could make up for it now…” 

Atsumu’s voice draws him in close and his eyes flicker to where he sits with naked legs spread wide, a teasing finger circling his hole. Osamu holds his breath as he moves up to his cock, hard against his flat belly.  _ Jesus, not now… _

“You know I have to go. Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because I want you to leave your store to those beloved  _ teenagers  _ you hired, and give me a real fuck.”

Osamu almost whines. Atsumu hums idly, head lolling to the side and lips puckered out as he pushes a finger inside slowly. He’s dramatic with the gasp that he lets out, and Osamu can already feel the blood pooling into his cock. “Just do it…” Atsumu whispers before he looks at him.

Osamu wishes he could get in touch with his inner self, reach out to some higher being and beg on his knees for an extra twenty minutes within an hour that never seems to stop ticking away.

“When we get home,” he says with a twisting tension in his chest that screams for him to throw his responsibilities in the corner with his pants and just  _ forget  _ about what’s outside. “I promise. When we get home.”  _ Be strong _ .

“You absolutely suck…” Atsumu moans as he fucks himself. “Go to work and be early, or whatever.”

“You a lot more irritating to deal with when you’re horny, you know that?” Osamu pulls his jeans up and winces when the rough fabric brushes against his boner. 

“You could solve that with one—”

“ _ Goodbye.  _ I’ll see you there.” 

Atsumu gives him a wave, wiggles his free fingers as Osamu trudges to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He chokes on his toothbrush when he hears Atsumu moan like a damn pornstar from the other side of the apartment, and even now he wonders how his self-control didn’t crumble at the lewd sound.

  
  
  


-

  
  
  


Osamu bounds into the restaurant just on time. His employees are waiting in front of the store to greet him, but Sakura is first, uttering yet another apology for having to call him out on his day off. He takes the apology in stride, telling her (again) that it’s really alright and there’s nothing to worry about. Because  _ yes  _ she played a large role in the never-ending string of cockblocks that he and Atsumu have been running into, but she doesn’t know anything about that.

There’s much to do before opening, and Osamu estimates that with the time they have, they’ll finish right before their doors are supposed to open. Time doesn’t seem to be on their side today. Osamu’s been skating on the edge of punctuality from the moment he opened his eyes this morning. It relieves him, at least, that he made the right choice by leaving Atsumu in bed this morning. Objectively, of course. He did leave him in bed gaping… panting… moaning as he pumps his fingers—

A ball of rice falls apart in his crushed fist. His eyes throb as he stares down at it before he unclenches it and watches it all fall onto the preparation counter. He sighs after accidentally trying to run a rice-coated hand through his hair. He’s far from focused, moving at half the pace he usually does, and falling apart with every moment he spends at work instead of _ inside Atsumu _ .

He tells himself that there’s time for it, that the day will end quickly, and sooner or later afterward, Atsumu will be cradled in his arms. He just has to  _ get through the day _ . And for the first half of his shift, it works. His morning regulars come in, and he’s able to distract himself with the stories they’d been waiting to share, wasting an hour or so away before things slow down again. 

Astumu comes in during the lunch rush. The door rings out behind Osamu as he’s cleaning off one of the tables and when he’s turned, he’s greeted with his bright smile, a wave, and shorts.  _ Short _ shorts. His practice shorts from back in high school, to be specific. The ones that Osamu used to spend his sweet time fondling him through back when they had bunk beds, groping his ass though the thin material and biting so hard he could tear it in two. 

His brother was scheming, and Osamu could feel the chill of death creeping up on his nape.

“Hi ‘Samu!” He sings out, fingers wiggling like they did this morning. His employees look at his brother excitedly, but Osamu gives him a pained smile as he waves back. Atsumu takes his familiar spot at the bar, resting his chin in his hand as he waits for Osamu to inevitably come his way. He can see the definition of the curve of his ass from the back of the restaurant and it stirs a rather alarming pulse of arousal in his gut. 

He finishes cleaning the table rather quickly and deems the rest clean before leaving the main floor. Osamu goes about his business, throwing his dirty rag into the sink and washing his hands before he addresses Atsumu. “Any reason you decided not to wear regular clothes today?”

“Felt like doing something a bit out there,” Atsumu hums, the corners of his mouth turning into a smile that Osamu can see from the corner of his eye, though he tries to focus on the front door. “Did you miss me, little brother?”

“I’m not going to say yes,” Osamu responds.

Atsumu pokes his arm. “Sure sounds like you missed me this morning.” Osamu sighs through his nose, and Atsumu only presses further into the cut of his desperation. “You should have stayed for the whole show, ‘Samu-‘Samu.”

He grits his teeth at the stupid, extended nickname. “You should exercise some patience.”

“Oh, like you did at the airport? No, no, come on ‘Samu, give me a kiss.” Atsumu puckers his lips and Osamu wants to punch him. “Come on—”

“Can you shut the fuck up? Seriously?!” He snaps. “I have a job, idiot. I can’t just abandon it.”

“I know that better than anyone.” A hand wraps around his wrist and Osamu tenses. “But do you think you could leave it now? For about…” Atsumu’s voice drops an octave lower. “Ten to fifteen minutes?”

Osamu blinks at him. “Oh?”

“I’m ready for you. All that moanin’ and groanin’ this morning wasn’t for nothin’.”

Atsumu tugs and Osamu’s brows furrow.

“What are you doin’?”

“I’m  _ tryna  _ have an important family discussion with you.” Atsumu gives him wide, signaling eyes, and it clicks.

“O-Oh, okay.” Osamu nods quickly, placing his apron on the back counter. “Okay, I’ll be right back, guys!”

Osamu should have assumed that Atsumu would try to pull something like this after last night. A little risk, a little edge, and he’s most likely horny enough to not care about the consequences. Without trying, Osamu managed to get him in the perfect position to do something completely out of their safe zone. He’s dragged to the back of the restaurant, fingers lacing tightly within Atsumu’s as he leaves the dining room behind. 

“So, I was thinking…” Atsumu pushes the door to the restaurant’s storage room open with a little wiggle of his ass in those  _ damn shorts _ —

“Don’t think,” Osamu smacks his ass sharply. “Inside. Now.”

It only takes a minute for Osamu to lock the heavy door and crowd his brother up against one of the walls.

“You’re evil,” He says it truthfully as his boner presses up against his jeans. “Only an evil man would do this,  _ onii-chan. _ ”

A pleasant shudder ripples through Atsumu. “Shut up. I want you to  _ fuck me _ .” He whines and Osamu swallows it, capturing his lips in a kiss meant to completely devour. Atsumu makes a sound as their teeth clash together but Osamu hooks his arms around his legs and hoists him up, taking only a few steps before laying him down on one of the unused preparation tables.

“How  _ unsanitary  _ of you,” Atsumu teases.

“I’ll buy a new one. Fuck off.”

Atsumu’s mouth falls open, probably to say something stupid, but Osamu pushes his tongue inside of his mouth before reaching to grip his jaw in his hands and force him closer. He sighs into it before resting his arms on strong shoulders, fingers grazing the hairs that kiss the nape of his neck. Osamu squeezes his jaw harder.

“ _ Nagh…amu…urts,”  _ Atsumu manages to croak out. Osamu pulls away, tugs at his bottom lip with his teeth before letting go of his cheeks. His hands snake down his sides, pressing into the thick of his stomach and his legs as they rush past before converging at his clothed navel. He pushes up Atsumu’s shirt to run his fingers along the heat of his heaving stomach and Atsumu throws his head back when they dip into his pants.

“Sorry…” Osamu says, pulling his hands away and unbuttoning his jeans, shoving them along with his boxers down in a hurry. “You just make me hungry.”

“Wouldn’t want to get in the way of your food, would I?” Atsumu’s eyes gloss over with excitement as his fingers dig into his thighs, urging them further apart. “Come here.”

Osamu steps forward, cock heavy in his hand. “Getting there, you bra—”

A knock against the door startles them, the quiet pants and begs that filled the room reduced to nothing. Atsumu’s body locks up and Osamu, having an opportunity to pull up his pants before there’s a chance for the door to creak open, shields Atsumu in a protective bow of his chest.

“What is that?” Atsumu whispers. “Who…”

“Miya-san?”

Osamu recognizes the voice immediately. “Sakura-san? What is it?”

“We need you!” She exclaims, and Osamu for the first time since hiring them, wonders where the hell he went wrong in life to end up in this situation a second time. No, a  _ third _ . A third fucking time. 

He cringes. “Can it wait?”

“I’m not sure, sir!”

“I told you you shouldn’t have hired fucking teens.” Atsumu grits out beneath him. Osamu rolls his eyes with a purse of his lips and ignores how right he is.

“I’m coming! Just keep things steady until I get there!”

“Okay!”

It’s when the pitter-patter of her feet quiets and fades back into the front room, that Atsumu speaks.

“Samu, Samu  _ please  _ don’t.”

“I have to,” Osamu says.

“I have to fucking  _ cum _ . Come on, just put it in really quick—”

“Jerk off when I leave, idiot!” Their desperation is nearly a match. Osamu  _ knows  _ it is. And despite it all, he fights to not cave.

“I want it to be  _ you  _ ‘Samu. Been  _ waiting _ .” Atsumu’s cock throbs, his thighs twitch, and Osamu flushes. 

“I-I know, I know. But I gotta go. I’m sorry. Later?”

There’s a pause that Osamu dreads before Atsumu sighs and wiggles his ankle out of his fist. “Go,” he says.

Osamu frowns. “‘Tsumu, I’m sorry.”

Atsumu sighs. “I know you are.” He slaps Osamu’s chest hard, and it eases the guilt on his chest. “Fucking scrub. Just go. I’ll hang around, watch you run the show. It’s been awhile anyway, hasn’t it?” He slides off of the metal table, pulling up his shorts and briefs. “Can insult your cooking skills up close.” He ties the drawstring to his pants and Osamu tugs him forward by the waistband before pressing a wet kiss to his lips. 

“Don’t bother any of the customers with your utter stupidity,” Osamu shoots back at him. He adjusts himself in his jeans again, and walks away, pushing the door open before he says, “Don’t take too long to come out, yeah?”

“You gonna miss me?” Atsumu smirks, and Osamu lets the slam of the door speak for itself. 

  
  
  


-

  
  
  


Osamu spends the rest of the afternoon rush scraping along the edge of irritation. His rice balls don’t come out as neat as he wants them to, he gets a rude customer or three, and to make it worse, Atsumu sits and laughs with customers at the bar, all while still wearing those goddamn volleyball shorts.

When he’s not mourning what could have been, Osamu is outlining a plan to make up for it, as well as working with double the amount of effort he usually would. Washing dishes between serving customers, shoving whatever unused materials he can on the shelves that line the back room, anything to speed up the closing process. Because the moment those doors shut, and he and Atsumu are left alone, he isn’t sure what state his self control will be in.

He sits behind the counter with a wide smile on his face as customers filter in and out. The sun sets quietly behind them, brings in a small dinner rush filled with people that may or may not recognize Atsumu from TV. Osamu gets to see Atsumu play airplane with a child, lifting him in the air and sprinting all around the restaurant, and for a moment he forgets the knot of sexual tension craving to be unfurled. He smiles as the child laughs in his arms, and wishes they could have the same.

At six o’clock, there’s a glimmer of hope on the horizon. The other employees are taking a well-deserved break outside, probably smoking cigarettes they’re not supposed to be able to get. Atsumu lounges by the bar again, the excitement from earlier wearing him out as he leans all of his weight on the counter. Osamu nudges his elbow with the damp cloth he’s trying to clean up with and he moves promptly before letting out a loud sigh.

“We made it.”

“Not yet,” Osamu smirks, wiping meticulously. “We have two hours left. What, can’t wait?”

“Shut up. I can wait plenty.” Atsumu rolls his eyes, before completely contradicting himself. “Just close now.” He says, reaching out to Osamu’s outstretched arm and giving it a gentle tap before letting it glide up. “I’m still ready for you.”

Osamu’s breath hitches and he shakes Atsumu off of him. They’re so close to freedom. “Just a little longer.”

“Why don’t we just go to your car when they come back?” Atsumu leans forward again as Osamu crosses to the other side of the bar. “Things shouldn’t pick up before closing, right?”

He has a point. “Yeah…” Osamu considers it as he wrings the cloth out in the sink. He hadn’t noticed Atsumu had slipped behind the bar as well. Not until his hands eased underneath his shirt and tickled at his sides. 

“The windows are open.” He warns as Atsumu wraps and hugs him, pressing Osamu’s back tight against his chest.

“Don’t care.” He presses his lips to the top of his spine.

“I care…” Osamu bites his bottom lip as he glances outside. It’s when he sees that no one’s outside that Atsumu pushes his hand into his pants.

“Hey do—” His pleas crumble into a small, wilting moan as Atsumu wraps his hand around him.

“I want you…” He whispers. Osamu rationalizes as he begins to stroke up and down, tantalizingly slow. They’re far from the front counter, far enough that no one who walks in can see the hand stuffed in his pants. His employees still have fifteen minutes left for their break, and they tend to use every second of it.

Fifteen minutes. Yeah, Osamu can rail him in fifteen minutes. 

“Okay.” He rocks into Atsumu’s grip, grinding his cock against his calloused palm. “Okay okay okay, let’s go. In the back. Hurry. Only have fifteen.”

Atsumu releases him the same time the bell on the front door rings. With it, a thunderous greeting follows.

“Oh  _ ‘Tsum-‘Tsum! _ ”

_ No. No no no no _ —

Atsumu blinks once in slow motion at Osamu as Kotaro Bokuto bounds into Onigiri Miya. A horde of squeaking sneakers and loud voices follow, and Osamu can feel both their hearts sink. Will it ever end?

“I hate this fucking restaurant,” Atsumu grits through his teeth, throwing his hands in the air while Osamu adjusts himself. “I don’t give a fuck if it’s your dream job, or dream world, or what fucking ever—it’s a cockblock. It’s a  _ fucking  _ cockblock.”

“Shut up, Atsumu.” Osamu adjusts himself for what feels like the hundredth time today. He turns on the sink, washing his hands and rubbing together in poorly veiled fury. “They’re looking for you. Go fucking talk to them.”

“Don’t get fucking pissed at me!” Atsumu shoves him so hard water splashes out of the sink. “I told you to just close!”

“Shut the  _ fuck up _ .” Osamu flips him off with a wet hand as he stalks away to greet their guests. In the distance, he can hear Hinata shouting about how much he loves one of the decorations. Osamu already dreads having to tell the story behind it.

  
  
  


-

  
  
  


It was Atsumu that screwed them over in the end, and he felt bad about it. During the afternoon rush, some of the pictures he’d taken with customers had been posted online, and Bokuto caught wind of his location through Instagram and Twitter tags. It’s what prompted him to gather a few (note: ten) of their teammates and organize a loosely planned ambush.

Ambush, because Atsumu feels like a trapped animal waiting to be devoured. He’d love this sort of thing on any other day of the week. But not today, where he’s been dying to be fucked for the past week, and he’s been unable to get it despite being here for a day and a half. He doesn’t like it when people get in the way of his food. 

He smacks Bokuto’s back extra hard when he pulls him into a hug, knowing that he’s probably already had the opportunity to sink his teeth into Akaashi.

It’s near closing at least, so they won’t be able to stay long. It’s a casual visit, and no one seems to want food (Bokuto isn’t able to stop talking about the traditional restaurant they went to a few blocks down, and Atsumu feels like he’s been stuffed to his limit after he’s done raving). Osamu finishes closing up what he can while their friends socialize and take the restaurant as their own. He  _ does _ decide to close early this time, sending his employees home with paid time off. As Atsumu watches the teens leave the restaurant with starstruck expressions and wild smiles on their faces, he envies them. They get to go home, do as they please rather than be shackled by the curse of fate.  _ Atsumu’s  _ fate, that is. 

When Bokuto loses interest in him he shifts to Osamu, and Atsumu moves to Hinata next. He manages to get through a conversation with him, a cumbersome interaction with Sakusa, and a hearty catch-up with Meian, who to his surprise, has a lot going on despite it only being a couple of weeks since the season ended. 

Around eight ‘clock, things start to wind down and Atsumu is more than overjoyed at the sight of yawns and quieting conversations. He’s counting down the seconds until they all leave. He turns his head to where Osamu wipes down the counters again and glances him up and down with a smirk. From his peripheral, he can see the warning in Osamu’s eyes as he stares back, his hand slowing. Atsumu raises his hand to rest underneath his chin, tapping his bottom lip. Arousal trickles in his gut, dripping in a constant stream.

For a while they stay like that, teasing each other with long stares and touches until they start to hear a familiar rustling behind Astumu’s shoulder. They’re leaving, he realizes. A rush, mostly thrill and impatience, consumes him. That is, until Bokuto approaches them again. 

“Are you guys doing anything after?”

The twins hesitate for an agonizing ten seconds before they say “No,” in unison, lacking the ability to lie.

“Great!” Bokuto grins devilishly wide as the rest of their friends file out of the restaurant. “We’ll meet you at your place?”

_ No _ . “Well we could just hang out here—” Osamu starts. Atsumu glares with a fire powerful enough to burn cities down.

“Nah nah! We’ll hang at your place! You can at least get comfortable, right?”

Atsumu might kill him.

“Sure…” 

Scratch that. Atsumu  _ is  _ going to kill him.

“Great! Meet you there!”

Bokuto is the last one to leave the restaurant, letting the door shut behind him with a slam that makes their ears buzz. The silence that falls over them is overwhelming, sucking the air from Atsumu’s lungs as he realizes that they’re  _ alone  _ for the first time since they’ve left home. He glances over to Osamu with a pit of emotions so muddled he can’t even describe them properly without confusing himself. Desperation, irritation, horniness,  _ anger _ ,  _ hunger _ …

“They’re gonna be waiting outside of the apartment, aren’t they?”

And Atsumu, for the first time in his life, sees Osamu’s dread, infatuation, and arousal all pool into the fire pit rumbling in his belly as he decides that he’s just about  _ had it  _ with the bullshit. 

“Fuck it.”

He strides across the restaurant and draws the blinds shut the same time he turns the neon ‘OPEN’ sign off and locks the door. Atsumu glances at the clock to see that it’s thirty minutes before closing. He takes in a sharp breath through his nose as Osamu lets the last blind fall shut with a snap.

“Where?” Atsumu says, following Osamu’s every move with hungry eyes. 

“Table. Table, get on the—” Osamu doesn’t bother to finish his sentence and lifts Atsumu off the ground, nearly throwing him on the table. “Fuck it.”

“‘Samu not on the—”

“I will  _ get  _ a  _ new one _ ,” he growls before pulling Atsumu into a bruising kiss. Atsumu’s eyes slip shut and his hands scramble to tug his shorts off. Hopefully this time, he’ll keep them off. Osamu’s tongue slips into his mouth and licks over his teeth and an obscene moan falls from his lips. His hands shake as they fall from his hips to rip his jeans open. Osamu tugs until they’re at his ankles, and his cock hangs free. 

“Oh god,” Atsumu gasps when Osamu wraps a hand around his cock afterward, relief flooding through him. “Do it do it do it—”

“You sound absolutely fucking desperate for it,” he laughs as Atsumu moans again, bucking into his hand like a wild animal. “I can’t believe how much waiting can turn you into this.” 

“I don’t  _ care _ .” Atsumu’s jerks turn into fluid rolls as he falls into rhythm with Osamu’s hands. “I want your dick.”

“I don’t think you do—”

Atsumu isn’t nearly in the place to play Osamu’s ‘beg for my cock’ game and doesn’t feel an ounce of shame when he moans against his teeth and whines, “ _ Please fuck me, ‘Samu! _ I can’t wait anymore, I  _ can’t _ . I’m so fucking horny I fucking need this and you can’t make me wait anymore please please please please—”

Osamu crushes their lips together, and Atsumu melts into it with a pitiful whimper as his hand speeds between them. He pulls away to trail frantic kisses along the side of his neck. “Wanna hear you like that all night. Even after I fuck you here.”

“Want you to fuck me after those fucking  _ idiots  _ leave.” Atsumu cranes his neck to the side, enjoying the pleasant sting of Osamu’s teeth sinking into his skin. He bites down deep and gnaws like he’s trying to take a chunk out. It’s ravenous, it’s barbaric, and it’s just the way he likes it. Something that only Osamu can give him.

Osamu sucks a bit more before releasing him and pressing a soft kiss to the bruise that will undoubtedly show when the morning comes and their rabbit high has ceased. He catches his eyes for a second before he’s being kissed again and his vision goes black. His hips rock into Osamu’s fist and the table rattles beneath him. 

“Wanna fuck you,” he breathes into his mouth, “I’m still ready from before.”

“I know.” A pair of arms tuck underneath his damp thighs. Osamu kicks out a chair from underneath the table before awkwardly shifting over to it and sitting down. “I know. Get on top of me.”

Atsumu falls into his lap and their lips clash together again, a mess of teeth and tongue and saliva dripping from both their mouths. Osamu grips Atsumu’s ass like it’s the only thing keeping him above ground and Atsumu ruts desperately against his cock, chasing the sparks that crawl from his gut and interweave through the length of his spine. They pant into each other's mouths as they grind, hard and gentle all the same, drowning in each other’s eyes, breathing the same air, basking in the intimacy they’d been craving since Atsumu stepped off the platform in Kyoto.

It takes a minute or three of begging to snap Osamu out of his delicious haze, completely wrapped in the swivel of Atsumu’s hips in his hands. He strokes his cock twice before asking Atsumu if it’s okay to go in dry.

“Don’t care.” A low moan rolls from Atsumu’s chest as Osamu spits in his hand. “Just want you.”

He strokes himself quickly before helping Atsumu straighten up and spread his cheeks wide. The first push into his heat is more than rewarding, a punch to his gut that releases all the tension that had been building up from the morning. The presence of a tight squeeze is still there despite Atsumu working himself up. The blonde groans above him as he sinks down, thighs trembling under the pressure of keeping himself up, and Osamu rushes to relieve him of it, gripping onto his hips and easing him down. Atsumu’s eyes open just barely as he looks down at Osamu’s flexed arms. “Like that…” He gasps, “More ‘Samu, more…”

“I got you.” Osamu huffs out a breath before hoisting him up again, “I got you, I got you.”

He releases him and Atsumu does the rest of the work, landing on his thighs with a slap before he plants his feet on the ground and fucks himself on Osamu’s cock. Osamu’s body limpens underneath him in a sacrificial way as Atsumu takes and takes. He rolls his hips and tries to time it with his movements, but he gives up after a hot thirty seconds, lost in the chantings of “ _ Just like that, fuck ‘Samu just like that, cock feels so good,”  _ and the orgasm that’s already building in his gut embarrassingly fast. Instead, he curls a fist into Atsumu’s hair and pulls him down for another kiss, sloppy and barely aligned but enough to drive Osamu’s other hand down onto his ass, smacking and  _ holding  _ it there as he bounces in his lap. 

Atsumu tugs on grey locks. “I’m gonna—I’m gonna…gonna…” He wants to say that he’s going to cum, that he’s going to explode if Osamu doesn’t stop, that he’s going explode if Osamu  _ does  _ stop, but it comes out like a broken string of words that he’s forgotten how to say when Osamu stops his quick thrusts to grind deep. He catches Atsumu’s gaze before he grabs his chin, caresses his cheek with his thumb.

“Then cum,” he says against his lips. Nothing more, nothing less.

Atsumu’s ass slams down on Osamu’s thighs one final time before he’s splattering cum on both of their chests. He flings his head back when he shouts, eyes blown wide and firecrackers popping white behind his eyes. Osamu thrusts wildly beneath him, rocking until his hips stutter and he’s groaning into the open air of the restaurant. His fingers dig painfully into Atsumu’s side as his cock pulses, flooding into his tight hole. Somewhere in the back of Atsumu’s fuzzy head, he can hear his name spilling from Osamu’s lips.

He doesn’t know how much time passes before Osamu eases his cock out of his ass, only feels the glide of it as the heat slithers out of his body, leaving him empty and clenching around nothing. Atsumu’s thighs twitch, weak and spent as the adrenaline subsides, leaving him tired and satisfied. The tears that had gathered in the corners of his eyes begin to dry, though one still escapes. Osamu catches it with his thumb, wiping it away.

“You good?” He asks. His thumb stays where it is, pets his skin gently, and Atsumu remembers why it's his favorite place to be touched. 

“I’m so fucking happy,” he laughs into Osamu’s shoulder, squeezing his chest tighter. His feet hang lazily, a hair from touching the ground. “So fucking happy.”

Osamu hums gently, rubbing his side.

“Can we sleep here?” Atsumu slumps further into Osamu’s arms. “In the restaurant?”

“I thought you hated this place?” Osamu’s words vibrate against his skin, and soft kisses follow after. “Thought this was a goddamn cockblock and you never wanted to come back.”

“It redeemed itself.” He sighs, “I just don’t wanna go home yet.”

His head shifts around and though Atsumu feels it, he buries further into the crook of Osamu’s neck. He smells like salty sweat and rice and a long day of work and he’s never felt more at home. 

“It’s not nine o’clock yet,” Osamu murmurs, kissing the tip of his ear. His lips leave a tingle as they trail down Atsumu’s jaw. “We can stay until then.”

“Cuddle?” Atsumu’s eyes feel heavy.

“Whatever you want.”

“Here?”

Osamu hesitates for a beat, but nods anyway, leaning back into the chair. “Yeah. Here.” A hand curls into Atsumu’s beach blonde streaks and he smiles, the corners of his mouth tugged so high he probably looks silly. But he doesn’t care. Osamu’s seen all his faces.

“Thanks.”

Atsumu doesn’t bother to get redressed, and Osamu doesn’t make him. They stay there for hours, it seems. Holding each other and hoping that somehow, time will stop in place. 

“Love you.” Atsumu thinks it, but when it comes out he doesn’t take it back. Osamu presses a kiss to his hair as one of his hands traces his spine loosely.

“I love you too, stupid ‘Tsumu.”

Atsumu snorts.

“Stupid ‘Samu.”

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed! follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/slowlange) if you fancy! thank you for reading :)


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